Page 47 of Fall Into You
So, I guess I’m spending Thanksgiving week with my secret boyfriend and my family.
Matt: Whoops, I guess I didn’t see this in time.
BUT IT’S A LIE.I read her text while I was on the call with Vinny—before he asked me to spend Thanksgiving with him—and I still agreed to go.
I know it was wrong to say yes when she specifically asked for me to deny the invitation, but honestly, I don’t care. I’ll pretend like I didn’t read it in time—it’s what I’m good at, anyway. All I’ve been doing for the past month or so is pretend. Pretend I’m not dating Liza. Pretend I’m not in love with her. Pretend I’m not the worst friend in the world for constantly lying to Vinny about the fact that I’ve spent almost every night since Halloween at his sister’s apartment. Pretend like it’s not killing me to hide all of this. Pretend like I totally get where she’s coming from.
Frankly, what’s one more lie?
I just don’t think that she’s thinking clearly, because this Thanksgiving thing can actually end up being a really good thing for us. Besides the fact that we’ll actually get to spend time together, I don’t get why she can’t see that this can earn me some serious points. I can bond with her mother, get her on my side—Danielle already confessed to saying that Catterina wasn’t opposed to the idea of us being together.
Vinny might even see us together and think we would make a good couple. He could see how I make her smile and how incredibly happy she makes me feel and think what a great idea it would be to set us up. Maybe things will turn out so well for us that we actually decide to come clean that same trip, and everyone will be happy for us.
Yeah, yeah. I know what I sound like, okay? I know I sound a bit delusional. But I have to keep the dream alive because I amsoover this childish sneaking around. Sure, I’m positive that secretly hooking up that week will be hot as hell, slipping into her childhood bed in the middle of the night and fucking quietly, watching her bite her lip as she tries not to make a sound when she comes. But still. Can’t we be grown-ups here? Is it so fucking wrong to want to spend the holidays with my girlfriend, whom I love very much?
Liza: It’s not a big deal. We just need to be really careful when you’re there.
Matt: Of course. We’ll be super discreet. Don’t worry about it.
ANDI really will try to be discreet. I’ll try not to kiss her neck and wrap my arms around her waist while she cooks or stare at her ass when she bends over. I’ll do my best not to kiss her first thing in the morning when she’s at her most adorable, all groggy and sexy with bedhead. But I also won’t be super disappointed if we get caught, you know what I mean? I won’t feel like it’s the end of the world—the way that she seems to think it is. Especially since we’ll be so close to December 1st, the date she picked for her stupid “checkpoint” and reevaluation of our relationship—the dayshechose for us to determine whether we would go public or not, which pretty much seems like a given, right?Right?What’s a couple of days ahead of time anyway?
Regardless of whether or not her family realizes I’m fucking head over heels in love with her, I think it’s important for her to see me in her familial environment, for her to see that I can fucking handle myself.
I love her, and I’m not going to go down without a fight.
MATTWILSON IS CURRENTLY HUMMING.Humming. Humming to the tunes ofThe Beatlesas we drive down the Long Island Expressway on our way to my mother’s house.
Normally, this wouldn’t surprise me, as Matt tends to be a very happy guy, and he does love music, but after the DEFCON-1-level freak-out he had last night while packing, I expected some nervousness before leaving the city this afternoon—some lip biting, brow furrowing, or mumbling—but I got nothing.
Last night was the first night we spent at his apartment, and it was only so that he could show me what he was thinking of packing for the trip. He started pulling out outfit options to show me, trying things on while I made fun of him—something he didn’t really appreciate—telling me how important this trip was for him and for us. When we finally finished outfit planning for him (adding an extra one just in case a baby vomited on him or something), I tried to calm him down by kissing him senseless, but that didn’t even work, which really concerned me. He went to bed tired, grumpy, and nervous. I went to bed annoyed and sexually frustrated.
Which is why I expected a nightmare scenario when I met up with him this afternoon at the car rental. But there he was, standing in all his glory, broad shoulders, freshly cut hair and trimmed beard, pressed pants and clean shirt, smellingamazing, waiting for me with a massive smile. He kissed me until my brain fogged and I lost my balance and told me to get in the car in the same voice he uses sometimes in bed—all of this right in front of the parking attendant, making me blush deep crimson.
I have no idea why he’s so excited, and it’s freaking me out. NowI’mthe one who’s nervous. Does he know something I don’t? Because I’m trying not to focus too much on the fact that my secret boyfriend and I are about to spend four days and four nights in my childhood home with my mother, brother, sister-in-law, and their toddlers while he’s looking like an absolutesnack,and I’m not going to be able to touch him.
“Why are you so damn happy?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him, unable to keep the question in any longer.
Matt stops singing about Lucy, and how she’s in the sky with diamonds, and smirks. “I love driving. I don’t get to do much of it in the city.”
“No onelikes driving this much. Not even Lewis Hamilton, and he’s an F1 driver.” Something’s definitely up.
“A Formula-1 reference?” He brings a hand to his chest. “Be still my heart!” He laughs and glances at me. When he’s met with no reply, he says, “I’m just excited, is all. Aren’t you?”
“Uh, no? Not really. Concerned? Nervous? Anxious? Check, check, check. Excited? Nope. Hard pass.”
He chuckles at me and shakes his head with a broad smile on his face, eyes glowing.
What is going on here?
“We’re almost there. I need to stop and get your mother some flowers. Do you know any place nearby that might still be open?”
I check the clock on my phone and see that it’s only 6:30 pm. We’ve made impressive time given that it’s the night before Thanksgiving and the expressway is usually packed. I direct him to the nearest flower shop, and we park across the street. He reaches for my hand as we cross, but I pull it away.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. “Someone could see. What if we run into someone in town?”
He rolls his eyes at me and opens the door to the shop, letting me walk in first.
I help him pick out the flowers, mainly because he’s a guy with no idea what to choose but also to give me something to do, to distract myself from thinking about how incredible he looks and stop myself from wondering why he’s being so weird, giddy, and flirty. He waits for the shop attendant to turn her back on us and then pinches my ass, stealing kisses as we watch her pull the flowers from tin buckets. Then, he wraps his arm around my waist as we check out.
